Take Me to Church
by Geminigypsy521
Summary: He couldn't feel anything anymore, unless he could feel her. Kissing him, underneath him, beside him. And it was dangerous, because this world tended to take things like that away. Hal/OC, heavy smut.


_So I'm constantly astounded and appalled at the lack of Hal/OC stories. I never really hopped on the Halgie ship, even though I love both of their characters. I just didn't feel that spark that would have made me obsessed between them. So since none of you guys will write some OC loving to feed my need for Hal, I'll do it myself. Enjoy._

 _My church offers no absolutes; she shows me worship in the bedroom. The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you._

She's soft, all over and even while she's asleep he can't help but run his hand over her skin just to feel. Feel the smooth, plush flesh beneath his callused hands. The whole world was nothing but jagged edges and broken pieces now, it made the soft curves of her body, the suppleness of her skin stand out like a splash of red on a white canvas.

As he traces swirls down her shoulder he thinks about the old world, just like he does a lot of the time that he's with her. He wonders if they would have ever met, bumped into each other. Collided like they had in what the world had become.

"I probably would've ran into you at Starbucks or something and though you were a total jock tool" She tells him one day when he asks her about it.

And he probably would've though she was not his type at all and walked away and called it a day. Because he didn't used to crave softness, he didn't used to seek it out. Before, when he'd never experienced bullet holes and death and rot, he would have thought she was fat(even though the thought now made him verbally wince) and probably a little too bitchy for his taste and would have gone to find something thinner and easier to swallow.

Now he buried himself inside of her wit, and snide comments and pillowy chest, he sometimes wished that he could do it physically too. Nuzzle so far into her breasts, so far into that warmth and honey colored bliss that he would never have to come out again. Never have to kill another skitter, or uphold the Mason name ever again.

He watches he chest rise and fall, the even breaths causing her collar bones to expose and disappear and gets lost in his thoughts. It's almost hypnotizing, and it lulls him into a daze.

He can think about the gunfire, and smoke and blood and not feel like he's freezing over when he's with her. It's all numb in his mind as he goes over it, and his thumb continually rubs circles into her skin from where his hand is now placed, splayed across the right side of her stomach.

He thinks about Ben, and how he doesn't know him at all(and how he never really did), He thinks about Anne and how insane she is for getting pregnant during all of this, and how insane his dad is for getting her pregnant, and how insane it is that his mom is really dead. Forever. And he doesn't resent Anne, not even a little bit, but he can't help but feel the sharp pain of loss every once and a while when he sees her and his dad together. It had dulled, after them being together for so long, but it was still there. He wondered if Matt and Ben felt it too.

He thinks about Karen, and then Ben kissing Karen, and then about kissing Karen himself, and them him kissing Kayleigh.

And them him kissing Kayleigh somemore.

And the first time they'd ever kissed. Her green eyes and almost too plump lips had been too much to resist, he'd gone on a run and he needed recovery. And when she hadn't turned away from him like she always had before he'd felt like she was it, like if he could keep making her give herself to him, that maybe he could keep fighting, like he could go follow orders like the "good little soldier" she had teased him to be.

And so that was how this had started. He'd go off, almost die. Watch other people die. Kill aliens(fucking aliens) and then come back to base and automatically look for her. She'd look for him too, as soon as heard the teams we're back(even though it had took forever for her to admit it to him) and they'd disappear, for as long as they we're allowed too. Until someone in the 2nd mass needed fixing or protecting.

He'd fuck her until he couldn't think at all anymore, until all he could feel we're his nerve endings frying and her heat surrounding him and she'd let him take everything that he needed, because when he was pounding into her he was giving her exactly what she needed too.

And then they'd lay there, intertwined, their limbs tangled and him holding her tighter then she'd ever allowed anyone else to and talk, about everything until they'd fall asleep and then wake up, and repeat the process.

She'd ask him what his favorite childhood vacation had been, or how tell him she'd partied too much as a teenager and she suck him off until he was shaking violently and cussing because she always knew right when he was about to cum, and if Kayleigh was anything, she was a tease and she'd stop and kiss his swollen head and look up at him with those taunting mossy eyes.

"Tell me" She'd demand.

And he would, he'd tell her everything. The constant line of communication between the two of them never-ending. Whether it was with words, or touches or looks or whimpers, they we're constantly going back and forth, connecting. And he craved the connection every time he had to break it.

She flips over in his arms and he's brought out of the daze a little, by the movement, and then by the feeling of her lips pressed against his lower throat.

"Go to sleep" She commands into his skin, her words vibrating into him and he laughs and adjusts closer to her.

"I'm trying. You go to sleep"

"I was asleep, motherfucker, but you keep thinking so loud" he's gotten way past used to her affectionate name calling. "What are you thinking about?"

"Everything. My dad, Ben. You" He replies and she moves her head up from his neck so that her lips are close to his.

"Hmm, it's a little late to be thinking about your dad, but I know Ben's on watch all night if you need to go talk to him" They're so close that her breath hits his face with every word and he knows he's not getting up out of bed anytime soon.

"Nah, I'll deal with it tomorrow" He presses his lips onto hers, dry and pecking "I'd rather just keep thinking about you" another peck, and then another, before it deepens and she's sucking on his bottom lip. His hand planes down her side, squeezing her ass and then rubbing down the back of her leg as she hooks it over his hip.

"Mmm, thinking what about me, huh?" Her voice is all feathery and smoky and sexy from sleeping and being pretty much woken up to this and it makes him grab at her knee and make even more room for himself between her legs.

"About how you said no 'one's ever been as deep inside you as I was earlier" and she feels that pit in her stomach twist as his words combine with him palming at her only tank top covered breast.

"No one ever has"

She doesn't understand what that does to him, what that means to him. How hard it makes him, how it makes his head spin and his muscles clench.

He shifts them mid-kiss so that she's on her back, and he's nestled between her thighs, laying his weight on top of her. Her arms are around him and her fingers are in his hair, running up his biceps, everywhere.

"Tell me again" He demands as his hips begin to roll, and he grinds down into her panty covered core. She raises her hips upwards, grinding back. Her head craned to the side on the pillow as she pants and he makes her feel like she's on fire.

"No one's ever made me feel like this, Hal. Only you. You're the only-fuck-you're the only one I've ever felt like this with" She whines in that little voice that only come out when he's about to fuck the shit out of her. He never hears that whine anywhere else except for when they're alone in bed. He fucking dreams about that whine.

"God, Kayleigh" He groans as he pulls down the top of her tank top enough that he breasts pop out. He has her nipple and as much else of the doughy globe in his mouth as he can fit and she's writhing and pulling down his boxers, gripping at his butt cheeks, pulling him closer into her.

He removes the final barrier between them, her boyshorts, and she reaches between them to grab him in her hand and guide him inside of her.

"Fucking god" He curses because her tight insides are velvety and scorching and feel like fucking heaven.

There's none of that slow at first build up, they've done this too many times. They know exactly what they want and he starts stroking into her, deep and hard. Shaking them both, shaking the world around them.

There's yes', and harders but really, they both know exactly what they need and how they need it. Her knees are in his armpits and his balls slap against her ass with every thrust.

"I fucking love you, Hal" she always admits it to him when he's making her sob, when he's turning her inside out. And he leans down and rubs his stubbled jaw against cheek, not stopping the pace. If anything, pounding her harder.

"I love you too" And after they cum, he know's they'll start they cycle all over. And he realizes that she's his religion, his calendar and clock. And he wouldn't change it, wouldn't trade it for the world.


End file.
